


Port de Bras

by swirlybutt-mcmangocunt (pumpkinqueene)



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Ballet Porn, Dom/sub, F/F, Improvised Sex Toys, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 17:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10470546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinqueene/pseuds/swirlybutt-mcmangocunt
Summary: Jasper dances for Pearl





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Verdite (Flareon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flareon/gifts).



For all Jasper’s hard, aching lines, snagging on Pearl’s heart like hangnails and fish hooks and tendrils of split rock, her form was built of round curves and softness; a natural paradox, fascinating in its brutal contradiction. Her jawline was strong, but her face had the queenly shape of a cartouche, etched with broad lips and golden eyes, and striking slashes of colour held in the frame of her pale hair. Her gem alone was pointed and hard, as if to betray her inward nature; and the black spikes of her lashes and eyeliner, as precise as the garrotte and twice as sharp, could also be considered stray points on an otherwise smooth map. But the hills of her shoulders, and the river-smooth bow of her hips, her waist, leading up to her ribs and the breadth of her rump and the depth of her breasts- the thickness of her thighs and arms- were soft, soft, soft. Pearl couldn’t pretend it didn’t enthral her.

“Now, now, Jasper,” she warned, penning a pale outline around those plum, petulant lips, “You mustn’t fidget, or I’ll make a mistake and we’ll have to start over.”

Jasper was no stranger to rouge and vampy black, but this was something new to her. She had been Pink once, she had confessed; and she was Pink still, with all the complexity that entailed. For her, pink was her Diamond; love, life, youth and yearning. But it was also Rose Quartz, and the death of a dream and all that she held dear. 

“I won’t let her ruin it for me,” she had vowed, smoothing the petals of a hollyhock with her knuckles. The Diamond on her breast was the exact same shade of pink, yet she never wore pink. Not truly. Her colour palette was autumnal; scarlet leaves, and the buckling, orange bows of smoke trees in October; fiery burgundy, deep, warm browns, eyes of amber bonfires, and hair like fresh clouds in a chilly pink dawn. Pink, she claimed, was difficult to pull off for a gem who clashed so irrevocably with pastels. 

“Pink makes me think of purity and goodness,” she had mused, “That’s not me. It could never be me.”

“Rose wasn’t pure,” Pearl had shook her head, plucking a hollyhock from amongst the meadowsweet, “And of course she did her best to be good, and do the right thing but- well, we both know how hard it is to do the right thing by everyone’s estimations.”

The sun had been low in the July sky, a blistering, watery orange bleeding into everything with a faint tint. The hour was late, and the ground was damp with recent rain, but neither of them wanted to move.

“I realised yesterday, that I can’t remember what her hair felt like,” Jasper had said, “I thought she’d live forever.”

“Me too,” Pearl had said, but they both knew they weren’t talking about the same person. Nevertheless, Jasper bowed her head and allowed Pearl to tuck a flower into her hair. It felt like raw silk.

Pearl had made the outfit by hand, because no human on earth could make one which both fit Jasper and was fit for her. Spools of ribbon wrapped around limbs and hips, yard upon yard of cherry pink measuring tape Pearl had detached from the reel and labelled in meticulous silver pen until she’d had the skeleton of a costume laid out in front of her. Next came the material; supple, soft, and clinging like hot sugar on a spoon. The end result was a thing of beauty, but its flat, floppy silhouette on a carpeted floor couldn’t be compared with its perfection as Jasper stepped into it and snapped it into place with an elastic twang. 

“Beautiful!” Pearl had sighed, clasping her hands in front of her chest, “Oh, Jasper you look-! Oh, you’re remarkable! You’re stunning! I knew I was right!”

“It’s pink,” Jasper had said, plucking at a shoulder strap. And so it was- a shimmery, baby pink dancing leotard, sticking to her every bump and dip with persistence; sitting high on her narrow waist to expose her obscene hips, and provocatively disappearing between her buttocks. The fabric puckered over her nipples, and pursed into her pouty pussy, already dampening as Jasper twiddled in place and clinched her thighs together. Temptation seared Pearl’s gut. It would have been so very easy to abandon their little game, and fold her fingers into the humid seam of Jasper’s lips through her leotard; to find the bud of her clit, slippy-sliding over its beseeching crown because she was just so steamy and wet -

Instead, Pearl had picked up the lip liner and motioned for Jasper to kneel. 

“Relax your lips,” she had said, sinking her thumb into the plush give of Jasper’s lower lip, “I’m going to make you so pretty. Pretty in pink. Not that you’re not pretty already, of course. You’re an exceptional beauty, by anyone’s standards. So big and strong, with all of that gorgeous hair. Aren’t you, Jasper?”

“Yes,” Jasper had croaked, her eyelashes settling against her flushing cheekbones. Her breath was hot against Pearl’s thumb.

“Good gem,” Pearl had smiled. 

Outlining Jasper’s perfect lips had been an exercise in precision, but filling them in was unspeakably erotic. They gave to pressure at the slightest push, puffy and pretty in a sugary ice pink as Pearl brushed it on like confectionary or the paint of the master artist. Ill-advised though it was, Pearl had to kiss her, catching warm, glittering heat on her tongue. Jasper tasted like burned sugar and stardust.

“You ruined it,” she murmured as Pearl licked the colour from her own lips.

“I’ll fix it,” Pearl promised, armed with more lipstick. This time, she held back from ruining her handiwork with her overeager lips, picking up the eyeshadow with a shivery surge of want as Jasper blinked at her, lips evocatively plump and shiny and her nipples as hard and round as brass buttons beneath her leotard. The wet streak at her crotch was growing. Pearl’s pussy began to ache in kind.

Jasper’s eyelids were beautiful in sandy gold; the only area where pink would be perhaps too much and too gaudy. Jasper ought to look beautiful and special, not tacky and cheap. The gold matched the ballet slippers she wore, their ribbons binding her calves in a crosshatch of silk and ending with a magnificent bow and spiralling loops below each knee. Pink and gold were a beautiful combination; but those slippers couldn’t compare with the incomparable gold of Jasper’s eyes, and the pink of her leotard was nothing beside the pink of her painted lips. Artistry rarely matched what nature had gifted. Jasper was living proof. 

“Oh Jasper,” she sighed, “If only you could see how sublime you look! But no, you can’t just yet. You must wait until I’m done. I’d like you to see the full effect. For now, you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“I’ll look stupid,” Jasper disagreed.

“Wrong as usual!” Pearl trilled, deep black mascara in hand. Jasper bristled, but at least she didn’t storm off. She turned her head into Pearl’s touch, wary and trusting and unflinching as her already full lashes thickened into midnight foliage beneath Pearl’s brush. Her usually sharp eyeliner was abandoned in favour of a hazier effect, smudged and layered like charcoal around the rim of her glossy eyes. Blush was largely unnecessary, considering her rosy cheeks, but Pearl dusted it on anyway, then set to work on Jasper’s hair. A spiralling braid curled around her skull, narrowing towards the centre and ending with a long rope like a bell pull, meshed with pink ribbons and hollyhocks from the pink palanquin. Pearl crowned her in a circlet of lace and sweet, pink violets, and stood back to admire Jasper’s augmented beauty.

“Oh stars!” she smiled, all giddy, “Oh, pink is definitely your colour! Come, come, I need to show you! Oh I’ve set up little dance hall, just for us! We have mirrors! Come on, hurry up!”

It was secluded away in a little nook of the temple the others didn’t know about; a side passage, halfway between Pearl’s rooms and the antechamber, where she had mounted mirrors on the walls, and set up a bar too high for any human but at perfect height for a full-sized quartz. The light was warm and rosy, diffused by delicate hanging crystals, which were spun like cotton candy into shining beehives. In their glow, Jasper’s hair seemed the same colour as the violets and hollyhocks dappling her head.

“I look stupid,” she grunted, reaching up to touch her hair. 

“Ah ah ah!” Pearl warned, wagging her finger, “You’re not doing as you’re told. If you want to end the scene, you can use your safeword- which is…?”

“Persimmons,” Jasper recited dutifully, “I look stupid.”

“So you’ve said,” Pearl said, folding her arms with a dry look, “Do you want to end the scene?”

“No,” Jasper said quickly.

“Then do as I say, and I’ll make you see how pretty you look,” Pearl said.

“Quartzes aren’t pretty,” Jasper said, staring fixedly at herself in the mirrors, arms loose at her sides, “Pink is…I shouldn’t wear pink. I’m not…pink is for delicate things. Like flowers. And sweet girly stuff. I’m…not that.”

For a gem who professed discomfort with her current situation, she was adamant about continuing the scene. It was no matter to Pearl. Let Jasper stew in her own denial. Her reticence, her refusal to speak her safeword, and the musky, dark translucence at the summit of her thighs- prominent and swollen where her clit and generous lips pushed against the fabric- bespoke her shamefaced enjoyment far more succinctly than words. 

“Jasper,” Pearl exhaled, “Quartzes are pretty and beautiful and graceful. Yes, you’re also big and strong- but those things don’t render you incapable of delicacy or loveliness! You see, most gems are lucky to be just pretty. Take me, for example-“

“I’d love to,” Jasper said with a roguish grin over her shoulder. Pearl was reminded that her smile was sharp too.

“Oh, stop, you!” she laughed, blushing with pleasure, “No, don’t distract me. I mean it! Ahem- where was I?”

“About to be taken,” Jasper prompted.

“No,” Pearl chided, “And stop deflecting! I was saying that I’m considered a pretty gem, like…oh, a vase or flower or something else you can own. Even aristocrats are generally small. But we all admire the beauty of the quartz warrior- her strength, her physique, her size. And you, Jasper, are the Ultimate Quartz, if memory serves. So, naturally, you’re spectacularly beautiful and it’s high time you accepted that.”

It was perhaps a haughty note to finish on, but Pearl thought she ought to be commended on her restraint. If she were a big gem, she might be seized with the urge to take Jasper by the shoulders and yell into her face until she finally understood just how lovely she was. Perhaps it was lucky, then, that Pearl was not a big gem. Anger would accomplish nothing. Jasper’s problem was deep-seated; a five thousand year old thorn, buried in the tiger’s paw for just as long. Yelling would only make her cagey and defensive, driving the thorn in deeper. 

No, no, her approach would have to lie in gentleness. The foundations of Jasper’s self-love had been laid by Steven and Amethyst, when they had met suffering with empathy; sticking vulnerable palms between the bars, even as Jasper yowled in the confines of her own beleaguered mind, finally overtaken by grief and loneliness and five hundred centuries of battle and the agate’s whip, and isolation, manipulation, the earth is an anathema, to be destroyed alongside all associated with it-

Nobody could build Jasper’s self-love for her, but they could pass her tools; could offer encouragement and tiny bricks and tiles- so easily shattered, like hearts and gems and minds- until slowly, a magnificent crenulation wound towards the sky, steepled with fire.

“I know I look good,” Jasper said, “I’m just saying-.”

“That you think you’re a big brute,” Pearl finished, crossing her arms and lips, “That’s you’re too…impure to wear pink. That you’re a big oaf, and you’re not good enough to wear her colour, because she was perfect, and you are not, and you look silly in it anyway. Did I miss anything out?”

“No,” Jasper said, picking at the pink nail polish Pearl had so fastidiously daubed her fingers and toes with.

“Don’t pick it,” Pearl ordered, and was obeyed, “I’ll tell you the truth, Jasper. Your Diamond wasn’t perfect. You look sensational in pink. You’re not impure, or lacking in anyway- not because you came from Earth, or for any other reason. And yes, you are big and rowdy, but you’re agile and beautiful, whether you’re dancing or fighting. Which is why, today, we dance, and you will wear pink. Or will you let your memories of Rose tarnish your memories of her? Will you let pink be the colour of Rose Quartz in your mind, rather than the colour of Pink Diamond?”

“No,” Jasper said. Her reflection was pristine, but she was frowning at it as though it were a mirage glimpsed through smoke; a sight which couldn’t be possible, yet she beheld it all the same. Slowly, she touched her lower lip, then glanced down at the dab of shimmering pink on her finger.

“Because if you can’t do this, you need to tell me,” Pearl said, backtracking a little (because it wouldn’t do to pressure Jasper into this by appealing to her pride! No, that wasn’t what Pearl wanted at all), “You don’t need to do this. We don’t need to do anything today. Say the safeword, and we’ll never speak of this again, and I promise I won’t think you cowardly for changing your mind. But you seem to like what we’re doing, so I will continue until you say otherwise. Alright?”

“Sure,” Jasper said, wiping off her finger on her thigh. There was little doubt that she knew exactly how much that would annoy Pearl. 

“Right,” Pearl said, on the tail end of a fortifying breath, “Right. You know the steps- and don’t claim otherwise! Pink Diamond adored ballet, so I won’t believe for a second that you, her prized Quartz, wouldn’t have learned the art for her pleasure. And now, you’ll dance for mine. Croisé devant!”

Jasper didn’t move, frowning at Pearl with a pinched, wary expression. Her put-upon reluctance was unsurprising; unwelcome, but unsurprising. It was unlikely that she had danced since her Diamond had fallen in the distant days of her youth, and lesser skills could rust in a fraction of the five thousand years which had elapsed since then. Suddenly, Pearl felt silly; silly to have presumed, silly to have thought Jasper would dance for her, silly to have thought she would remember how.

And then, abruptly, Jasper slid her left foot back, turned outwards; crossing her right leg in front with its foot extended en pointe, her right arm raised but held low, her left arm curled above her head like a swan’s neck; her body turned incrementally away from Pearl and her head lifted, with her eyes trained skyward, fixed on nothing and everything. Her position was perfect, and yet Pearl’s heart twinged.

“She’s not here, Jasper,” she said, “Look at me, not her ghost.”

“I know she’s not,” Jasper said, “It’s habit. The last time I did this for anyone, she was.”

“But you’ve been practicing,” Pearl noted- because poise like that required training to maintain. She would know. 

Finally, Jasper turned her head towards Pearl, her expression as smooth and hollow as a teapot. 

“What next?” she said. Pearl remembered smashing a teapot once- accidentally, of course. She had been uncharacteristically careless in a fit of pique over Greg, and before she’d known what had happened, the teapot had tumbled off the sideboard and burst across the floor. It had been Rose’s. She hadn’t realised she was crying until baby Steven had toddled over and touched her face with his tiny pink hand as she brushed the broken pieces into a dustpan.

“À la quatriéme devant,” she said instead of pushing. This was about catharsis, not disclosure.

Jasper’s turn was smooth. Her thighs crossed as she led with the same foot (her right one), positioned side-on in perfect en pointe, while her left foot pointed towards the left and her arms raised like outstretched wings. Pearl was impressed. Jasper wasn’t as good as her, a gem who had practiced every day since long before the Earth was first colonised, but she was good all the same. It was truly impressive how graceful and airy she seemed without losing any of her magnitude. Whales in the deep, gem vessels which spanned cities, a forest fire at its zenith, a planet hurling its way around its star at sixty seven thousand miles per hour- and now Pearl added Jasper to the list of the immense and elegant. In battle, she was a wrecking ball; terrifying force shearing through her enemies. In dance, she was as fluid and hypnotic as a newton’s cradle. 

“Good,” Pearl said, a little breathless, “Now á la seconde. And hold it for me.”

“And if I don’t?” Jasper asked. She swung her leading foot out to the side, toes arched to a point, but kept every other part of her stationary. Pearl watched her braid sway like rigging; alighted her eyes on the scanty lycra which revealed more of Jasper’s breasts than it covered, the muscles in her arms, a big, sweeping stripe across her thigh, like the path of a lover’s tongue; and the inescapable, unignorable wetness which had graduated from a cheeky little damp spot to a brazen, clinging mess. With Jasper in this position (with her legs parted), Pearl could see the outline of her clit standing proud of her generous lips, rouge peeking through pink like layers of watercolour. 

“If you don’t hold it,” Pearl croaked, “I’ll have to discipline you.”

“Oh no, looks like I couldn’t hold it,” Jasper said transparently, flattening her leading foot without any semblance of pretence. Her inner thighs glistened already.

In a darker corner of the room, Pearl had stashed an alabaster box. It was a heavy thing, made for humans with more grandiose tastes than her, but it suited her purposes to keep her dancing equipment in it. She didn’t have to tell Jasper to stay. She knew how they did things by rote now, and she would say if she was uncomfortable. Pearl could count on that at least. If she couldn’t, they wouldn’t even be here.

She kept her body angled away from Jasper’s line of sight as she opened the box. This would be a surprise; a sweet, pleasure-pain one which would have Jasper dripping all down her pretty ballet slippers by the time Pearl was through with her.

“Tell me your safeword,” she said again, rising with her back to Jasper. The dancing cane in her hand was pristine polished laurel, carved with patterns of bay leaves and berries in the eighteenth century. She had never used it as more than a pretty showpiece; a way to impress Rose, who delighted in Earth trinkets. It was too thick and heavy to put to any real or reasonable use, and its design just wasn’t to Pearl’s taste- and so, it had sat on its bed of velvet for the past few centuries, taken out only to be cleaned with the other pretty baubles the box contained. 

For the first time, Pearl had a use for it.

“Persimmons,” Jasper said as Pearl came up behind her. Her braid formed a neat line from her crown to her plentiful rump, straight down the middle. It was pleasingly, arrestingly symmetrical; almost geometrical, even. Jasper tried to look over her shoulder, but Pearl swatted her on the backside with the flat of her palm in clear prohibition. She doubted it would so much as sting, but the vibration of Jasper’s flesh beneath her hand and the abrupt, juicy crack nevertheless lifted goosebumps in its wake. Pearl bit her lip hard.

“Into position,” she snapped, “Again- á la seconde!”

This time, Jasper’s movements were faltering, thrown into disarray by distraction. But Pearl was a benevolent teacher. Her cane came to rest at the small of Jasper’s back; hard and thick, and entirely evocative with its domed head finding a home in one of the matching dimples which sat just above the massive curve of her backside. It didn’t linger long. Pearl charted a course towards the centre, where the thong of Jasper’s leotard vanished between the two peach-halves of her full round buttocks, and followed the trail with impunity. 

“Pearl!” Jasper grunted.

The cane found its way down, engulfed in plush give. Pearl felt the precise moment at which it bumped over the tiny furled hole; in Jasper’s little gasp and the elastic give beneath her touch, and in the way Jasper clenched around the shaft of the cane with a pressure which nearly snapped it.

“If you break my things, there’s no chance of you getting a reward for good behaviour,” she warned with a frown. Jasper relented, and Pearl was able to slide the cane between Jasper’s thighs, where it nudged against the pudge of her pussy to spread her lips against its rounded surface. Naturally, she rocked back- and, naturally, Pearl withdrew. Sticky wisps of slick connected the glistening cane to her for several inches before they broke off to dangle from Jasper’s sopping pussy or else frond Pearl’s cane with slivers of silver-clear juice. Jasper’s shoulders were hunched, her head bowed and her fists clenched at her sides. But she didn’t move- not even to pluck the crotch of her leotard from between her lips, where it had sunk as a result of Pearl’s teasing.

“À la seconde!” Pearl said, pushing against Jasper’s right inner thigh with her cane. She rapped it there for good measure- a tender blow to one of Jasper’s most sensitive places- and smiled to herself as a dribble of slick snuck over that spot seconds later. With a breathy moan, Jasper did as she was told; and the ribbon at her knee gained a little wet speckle, like the splash of a fat raindrop.

Pearl abhorred mess, but in moments like this, she delighted in just how messy Jasper could be.

“Good!” Pearl said, “Now épaulé!”

Jasper shivered but didn’t move, her knuckles like a ridgeway across her clenched fists. Pearl frowned, striking her soundly across the buttocks- and still, she remained motionless, apart from the rise and fall of her shoulders, and the shiny rivulets of slick wending down her leg, and the syrupy drip-drip which fell from her to dot the floor.

“Jasper,” Pearl sang sweetly, “Into position, please. You’ve been doing so well, and you look so pretty in those lovely soft pinks and golds. Just like a blazing sunset. And you know I love seeing you so wet and embarrassed. If you keep going, I’ll reward you.”

Jasper’s breath left her in a shaky exhale. She seemed to be gathering her control as best as she could, her shoulders squared and her back unhunching. Her left foot came forwards, set at an angle, as she brought her leading foot behind her, toes en pointe; her hips turned slightly to the left, but her upper body twisted almost completely, her right arm crossed over towards the left and her left arm extended behind her. It was almost perfect. Almost.

“Hm,” Pearl said, stepping forwards, “Your free leg is angled a little bit too much.”

Jasper could have corrected the issue on her own, but where was the fun in that? Pearl set the length of her cane against the crease where thigh met buttock, watching it sink in like a weight on a pillow. Jasper grunted, so of course Pearl groped her there for good measure, her spindly fingers biting into supple flesh; such exquisite curves deserved lavish attention, after all. 

“Come on,” she said, trailing her cane down between Jasper’s thighs, “Adjust your position.”

Jasper’s attempts to steal some relief (by swirling her hips in desperate, irregular little circles) was hardly surreptitious, but Pearl decided that she looked so endearing that it would be impossible to chastise her for it. Instead, Pearl pointedly slanted the cane downwards and knocked it against Jasper’s inner thigh; close enough to her need that molten dribbles of slick slunk onto the wooden surface, and Pearl could feel her heat against her hand, but far enough that she was just out of reach.

“There,” Pearl said, guiding her leg into place, “Good. You’re doing so well.”

“Pearl,” Jasper rasped. Pearl stepped back with not a little regret, already missing her warmth and the scent of her eager wet pussy.

“Écarté!” Pearl said, twirling her cane in her hands like a baton as she circuited Jasper and faced her with it outstretched, “And then you’ll clean this. You’ve made a mess. It’s an antique, you know; quite valuable, and you’ve gotten it all wet. But if you clean it for me, I’ll be very pleased with you. And I’m sure you’ll look divine with those pretty pink lips wrapped around this cane, as though it were something else.”

Jasper’s flushed face, beatific in her torture, creased up in glassy-eyed need. The first part of Pearl’s order appeared to be of non-consequence as she lowered her head to slide her shiny lips down and down the cane; taking it into her throat, sucking lightly, her closed eyelids glittering rose gold in the light.

“Very good,” Pearl smiled, thrusting it in and out with a swooping feeling in her belly, “Do you like that? Can you taste yourself? Oh, I bet you taste incredible, don’t you?”

It was intimately obvious to both of them that this was a wholly gratifying, completely pointless exercise. Jasper’s lipstick left sugary pink smears down the wood, and it was no drier than it was when she had started by the time she was done, but it was worth the arduous hours it would take to get the carvings clean if it meant Pearl had an excuse to watch Jasper taste herself.

Oh, but she couldn’t do this all day. Jasper didn’t have the patience for it- and, come to think of it, neither did she. All she wanted to do was lick the sweat salt from Jasper’s cleavage, and get her mouth on one of those fraught red nipples through the lycra; to watch Jasper’s breasts tumble free the moment Pearl slipped the shoulder straps off, as that last and only negligible source of support fell away beneath the weight. The temptation was severe enough that she plucked at a nipple with a longing little sigh before she managed to remind herself not to give up so soon in the game.

“Écarté!” she repeated, pinching Jasper’s jaw between her forefinger and thumb. Jasper opened her mouth obediently and let the cane go. Her lipstick was smudged down her chin like strawberry crème. 

“Now into position,” Pearl said. Considering how…sodden Jasper was, Pearl was impressed when she succeeded in following these instructions, sliding into a meritable écarté even as the ribbons at her knees waxed increasingly dark.

“Effacé!” Pearl ordered, without giving her time for pause. Jasper blinked and wobbled, but her position constituted an especially good demonstration, so Pearl decided to only swat her once across the backside. Jasper moaned, flowers drifting from her disarrayed hair to fall to the floor, or else stick to her shoulders and the dewy rise of her breasts.

“You’re doing so well,” Pearl cooed, “À la quatriéme derriére.”

Once again, Jasper’s faltering start did nothing to detract from the resultant poise of her position. Pearl still snapped the cane across her behind, once on each cheek, in quick succession. Jasper wriggled against her own crossed thighs with an open mouthed whimper. Pearl smacked her again, and then again, and again, until she got the picture and subsided with a curse bitten between her teeth. 

“We’re nearly done,” Pearl promised, delighting in the effect this little scene was having on Jasper, “You’re doing so well, my prima ballerina. Oh, just look at yourself! Don’t you look beautiful?”

Still in her pose, still blushing, still dripping, Jasper turned her head to the right to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirrors Pearl had set up entirely for this purpose. She had been avoiding looking at herself until now, and Pearl wondered what she thought of the sight she made; so curvy and nubile, her arms a riot of muscle, her thighs as thick as pillars, misted in sweat as she craned her body with the grace and sensuality of a nymph.

“You look beautiful, don’t you?” Pearl breathed, virtually hurting with the need to touch her, “I told you you’d look beautiful in pink. You should wear it more. Don’t let your insecurities or grief stop you when I can tell that you love this colour.”

Jasper bit her smeared lip, but nodded all the same. It was the closest thing to admission that Pearl was likely to get.

“Croisé derrière,” she said. Jasper finished with a flourish and a smug smirk, which faltered when Pearl responded in kind. Jasper recognised the ominous signal for what it was. 

“Yes, you’ve done so well!” Pearl said, clapping primly, “But I have one last thing I’d like you to do for me, if you can. Now…Développé à la Seconde, if you please!”

Jasper clearly had more than a passing thought of refusing for want of relief, sucking on her lower lip with her eyes closed; but after an eternal moment, she opened them and seamlessly slid into fifth position in releve. So she had decided to take the difficult route out of sheer stubbornness and incorrigible pride. Pearl couldn’t claim that she wasn’t proud.

With her inside (left) hand resting on the bar, and her outside (right) hand extended to allonge- fingers stretched out and palm down- she completed her preparations, then brought her outside arm down in a low crescent. Just as it reached fifth position, she lifted her outside leg, curling her foot in front of her other calf. Already, the sight was wonderfully lewd, but the spectacle only increased in its appeal as she continued to raise her leg all the way into a flat-passe, all the while moving her arm into first position. In a matter of seconds, Jasper had her outside leg fully extended, while her other one rested on its toes; her left hand on the bar, and her right hand high above her head in fifth position.

“Hold it!” Pearl said. Jasper’s expression was mutinous and acerbic in the extreme, yet hold she did. She must have realised Pearl had planned this from the moment she had ordered Jasper to demonstrate Développé à la Seconde- it was hardly a subtle plot after all, even if it was a cunning and brilliant one- but despite her clear irritation that she was to be teased still further, she hadn’t uttered her safeword and seemed to be enjoying herself just fine. Her embarrassment was palpable, but so were her heady, musky scent, and the rude glimpse of her red lips she was offering as her lycra crotch stuck to one side of her pussy at an askew angle. She couldn’t adjust herself without moving- and she had agreed not to move. Nonetheless, she knew better than to force herself to go through something she didn’t want to do. If she had decided to bear this punishment for the sake of a reward, it was because she liked it.

Jasper was so tall that Pearl hardly needed to stoop in order to immerse her face in her pussy. She was all dripping, juicy-wet, her damp thighs shaking with exertion as her clit throbbed against Pearl’s ardent tongue; and she hissed out a declaration of hate which seemed to imply the exact opposite, her breathy moans as ragged as scorched grass, dribbling gossamer chains of slick and wet lines on her thighs like rainfall on glass. Pearl sucked on her fat inner lips, rolling her tongue teasingly against the sobbing hole at their centre and relishing the sticky slide of her face against Jasper’s pussy. Her hair was tacky, and her face was awash with slick, but she slid her tongue in and burrowed in as deep as she could, regretting her large nose for the first time in her life when it proved an obstacle to her ardour. Her spindly fingers were similarly ineffective when she eased a few into the searing clamp of Jasper’s fluttering pussy, but she found that combining oral stimulation with the sloppy thrust of all of her fingers at once- and her palm, and up to the wrist, because Jasper was a big gem after all- left Jasper swaying like a pine in a storm, just barely holding herself up on her toes.

“I hate you!” she gasped for the second time that night, “Oh fuck! Pearl!”

“You hate me?” Pearl said, dragging her face free, “That’s not very nice, considering how nice I’m being to you! But you look so good and you taste equally pleasant, so I suppose I can forgive you.”

“You’re evil-!” Jasper groaned as Pearl twisted her hand, plunging it in with a filthy, messy, wet sound, and a cascade of slick down her wrist. The pretty ballet slipper on Jasper’s supporting leg- which was once a lovely soft gold- now seemed more of a shiny khaki as it dampened and darkened.

“Evil?” Pearl laughed, “For wanting you to enjoy yourself and realise how nice you look in pink?”

“F-For-,” Jasper panted, “F-For…torturing me.”

“Oh Jasper,” Pearl said with a sweet smile, “I’m not torturing you. This isn’t torture.”

Jasper had forgotten about the cane. It sat next to Pearl on the dance mat beneath her knees, smooth and phallic with an intricate, raised texture and an intimidating girth. She hefted it in her hand, feeling its weight. Far too much for her to handle, or even a gem thicker and more worldly than her- but it was the perfect size for a comparative giant like Jasper. If Pearl were honest with herself, she had intended this from the start. 

“W-What are you doing?” Jasper asked, made suspicious by the sudden waning of Pearl’s attentions.

Pearl had long been of the opinion that Jasper had a beautiful pussy, ever since their first time together on the stairs in the beach house. Of course, all pussies were beautiful in different ways, but she was enthralled by Jasper’s. So plump and full, as if to mimic her pretty mouth; and such a ripe red at her centre, and so hot, and oh stars she was wet. Her juices glossed her pussy and thighs, so it wasn’t hard for Pearl to get the cane slippery enough that she was confident it would slide right in when it came down to it. She prodded up against Jasper’s pussy, her mind full of thoughts of luridly red orchids as it flowered open beneath her touch.

“Oh my Diamond is that what I think it is?” Jasper said quickly, her voice oddly flat but suitably breathy. Pearl hadn’t edged inside yet. She wanted Jasper to think about what was going to happen before it did, languishing in anticipation with her leg held high, and her rouge lips pursed around the rounded end of the cane; her shaking arm struggling to stay aloft, as she tried not to lean too heavily on the bar lest she break it; panting harshly through her bitten lipstick, and the skinny strip of cloth threading across her groin, which was held aside by the cane, snagged on the edge of her puffy clit as her juices smudged across her perineum, and draped between her cheeks in shiny strands, and snuck down her thigh.

“I think I like these little dance lessons,” Pearl mused, rubbing the tip of her cane up and down Jasper’s pussy, “Careful you don’t fall on me. It would hurt, and probably force me to retreat into my gem- which would be no good for you, since you’d be stuck like this. And I take a long time to reform, just so you know.”

Jasper teetered on her toes, keening with her mouth shut.

“Quartzes are the most flexible of gems, you know,” Pearl continued as she stroked Jasper’s flank with her free hand, “You have to be, to be able to roll up into a ball like you do, and charge at your enemy. I always knew you’d be able to get your leg all the way up there. I’ve spent many a night thinking about how you’d look, you know.”

“B-Bet you ha-ad fun,” Jasper said, in a fair impression of her normal cockiness, given her predicament. 

“Hm,” Pearl agreed, “I did. You wore all kinds of nice outfits, some of them naughtier than others. In one fantasy, you wore only a crown of peonies, and you were outside under the summer sun, glowing and so glorious. I invited the other gems to watch. I didn’t mind them watching, because I like showing you off, and I like it when you show off. Just as long as nobody else can touch you or kiss your perfect pussy, they can look at they want and stay jealous of me. Aren’t I generous?”

She twisted her wrist, grinding the domed head of her cane against the source of all of that blossoming slick.

“Yes,” Jasper bit out. It was clear her words were the exact opposite of her sentiments.

“In another fantasy, we’re in a rainstorm, and you’re wearing a floaty white gown, cut very short,” Pearl said, “Oh, it’s very short. And as you dance for me, the rain soaks in and soon, the fabric is sticking to your skin and completely see-through, and I can see everything. Your nipples and stripes seem so red. And every time you lift your leg, I can see your pussy. I can’t tell if you’re wet from the rain or because you’re as excited as I am, but I suspect it’s both.”

Talking about this was an exquisite torment of its own for Pearl; a double-edged sword, to use a cliché. She may have been tapping into Jasper’s exhibitionism, and her desire to be admired and loved to send Jasper as wild as she possibly could, but this long, drawn-out play and her own fantasies were a combination which had Pearl throbbing.

“You should write a kinky novel,” Jasper panted, clenching the muscles in her thighs.

“Yes, I could write about all of our little adventures and change the names to preserve our anonymity,” Pearl said teasingly, “It would be quite the money-spinner. And maybe I could write about the things I’d like us to do together. And you could read it, and my words could get you soaking wet even when I’m not with you. What do you think?”

“I think you love the idea of me fingering myself and thinking of you,” Jasper said.

“I do,” Pearl agreed, “I want to make you more outfits, like the yellow sundress I talked about the first time we made love. Do you remember?”

“I remember that you had a thing against underwear,” Jasper quipped, “You still do, apparently.”

“No, I love underwear,” Pearl disagreed, “I love the way your pussy looks in underwear, and your bottom. And your breasts. You look amazing in corsets and all kinds of sexy clothes. It’s not about how much you’re wearing, but about the presentation and unwrapping, and how scandalous it feels whether you’re out in public with no panties, or in here in your pink ballet leotard, as we find out how much of my antique dancing cane I can fit inside you.”

“You’re not fucking me though,” Jasper frowned.

“Am I not?” Pearl said, tapping her tacky chin with the tip of her index finger in mock consideration, “Hm, I suppose you’re right. I suppose I’ll just have to-“

The cane plunged in, six inches in one go, and Jasper cried out, dropping her head back as her mouth fell open to howl. The fact that her leg stayed up, and her other leg didn’t crumple beneath her was commendable.

“-Fix that,” Pearl finished, “Goodness, I bet that feels good, doesn’t it? It’s just what you wanted. Something nice and big, to stretch you out and fill you up properly.”

“Fuck me,” Jasper cursed. It wasn’t a request, but Pearl decided to take it as such; guiding her cane in deeper until she knew she was at Jasper’s limit, withdrawing it with aching slowness so that Jasper could feel the glorious rasp of each bump and groove of the carvings, then sliding in again; over and over and over and over, as the cane warmed beneath Pearl’s hand and in the scorching, soaking depths of Jasper’s body, and Pearl had to fumble with her own pants, to worm her hand in; frantically circling her fingers around her clit, crooking them into herself as sunspots burned behind her eyelids and Jasper’s voice sounded above her. 

But no, she shouldn’t close her eyes! She wanted to see Jasper in all of her dishevelled glory, like a deflowered nymph or prostitute priestess to some pagan love deity, scattering flowers and dripping slick as she rose towards ecstasy. Pearl forced her eyes open, zeroing in on the way Jasper’s pussy bloomed around her cane, glazing the wood; and her hand moved faster, her knuckles stretching out her shorts from the inside as she ground three fingers into herself and fucked Jasper with her other hand.

To Pearl’s consternation, it was she who came first, spasming around her fingers with a bitten-off moan and a series of gasping cries, her sweaty knees slipping on the dance mat. She lost her grip on the cane, but if Jasper was annoyed, Pearl couldn’t hear her complaints past the white, crashing breakers thundering roaring in her ears, and the distant pitch of her own voice. 

When she quieted, she was slumped on her knees, her fingers still knuckle-deep in her softly fluttering pussy. She found the cane lying on the dance mat beside her where it had fallen, and worked her shaking fingers free of her pants to pick it up. It was hot to the touch. 

“Pearl,” Jasper implored. Somehow, she was still standing. Pearl watched a thread of slick break off and drop to the mat, only to be replaced by another.

“Alright, alright, I’ve got you,” Pearl promised, shuffling onto her knees. This time, there was no teasing or delays; just the long, measured push-and-pull of her thick cane, and Jasper’s enraptured face above her, tilted back in sightless pleasure, and her improbably still leg, shaking imperceptibly but still raised with all of Jasper’s characteristic verve and stubborness. She had been standing on the edge for so long that it took very little to send her pitching and soaring- just the firm pressure of Pearl’s fingers on her clitoral hood, and her supporting leg fell onto its heel as she gushed around the cane, rippling so powerfully that she jerked it in Pearl’s grip and her clit visibly pulsed with each spurt. She was beyond yelling, rendered breathless and silent and slack-jawed by the strength of her orgasm. It was only when the last weak dribble pattered onto the mat that she managed a hoarse moan, her head lolling on her shoulders.

“Let-I need, to…I need to put my leg-,” she gasped, “Can-?”

“Oh, yes, of course Jasper!” Pearl said, ashamed at her own forgetfulness. Jasper dropped herself onto the mat like a starfish, shaking the floor with her dead weight. Pearl crawled over to her, smoothing her hair away from her forehead with a fond smile.

“You’ve done so well!” she said, “I’m sorry I forgot to give you permission to move. You looked so breathtaking, I suppose I forgot in the heat of the moment. I’ll be more careful in future.”

“I’m fine,” Jasper laughed, “I’d use my safeword if I needed to. I’m not a complete idiot.”

“No, just mostly,” Pearl said. 

“I must be, joining you idiots,” Jasper said without venom. 

Pearl laughed, and balanced a wilted hollyhock on Jasper’s gem with an impish grin.


End file.
